A Princess and Prince
by Fate Hedgehog
Summary: A poem in triversal quatrain. A little [sad] tradition of Sora's. R


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A Princess and Prince

[Fate Hedgehog][1]

Twilight shone off in the distance, night begins to unfurl

On top a rock cliff above the sea stands a young girl

Over her clothes a brown trench-coat in the winds whirl

And a lone rose within her hand.

* * * 

A momentous occasion beckons Sora to come this day

But the occasion is a sad moment in the girl's fray

Because she is honoring the memory of whom has passed long away:

Her unknown father is the man.

* * *

Sora stands there solemnly as the only sound of waters lap

And the trench-coat in the breeze cracks taunt and flap

And the only thought on her quiet mind once made map

Are the funeral rites that she re-invokes this year.

* * *

A lone tear goes down her face and falls onto the rose

As the silent vigil to her father slowly comes to its close

For being out there for minutes which she meticulously chose

Every second missing her father passes with drear.

* * *

She opens an eye and another tear falls to the beach

Where tide against rocks is far out of her reach

To jump and see him again no one would beseech

And she doubts she would have courage to do it herself.

* * *

But every-year she does come to pay homage to the water's wave

For there is not tomb, body nor is there a grave

To place her rose on any time nor any day for the moment to save

And that makes the ceremony all the more to her mental health.

* * *

Sora looks down timidly at the close of her trench-vest

Ever since she's remember, people have always been inquest

Of her attire that's so tom-boyish and not ever 'dressed'.

Why she chooses to cloth herself in that flair.

* * *

As personal respect, so no one would actually think to show her pity

She always said that this was simply just her way

But her jeans and plain shirt and helmet have more reason, to her, to stay.

She misses her father and that's the silent reason there.

* * *

When Sora was just five or six, maybe, and her father was still alive

She'd always wear a colorful dress of many sorts and jives

To which her love father would always smile at and cry:

"You're the sweetest angel I know, my little princess."

* * *

And it would make her smile back at how much he cared.

Her attire was as joyful as she was back then, carefree and unaware.

Parents which loved their daughter - Sora - kind and selflessly fair

To whom wondrous luck and happiness had no excess.

* * *

And for her luck, her father gave her a lucky helmet - shiny and blue

Because he saw her love of sports at an early age and knew

That she'd need one in the future and it became evident and true

Since soccer became her best game.

* * *

She'd always wear a dress - none too fancy but always neat

And always - to him - wanted to remain sweeter than sweet .

But every Sunday, her father would dress her in a beat

In a pair of jeans and yellow shirt. Comfortable and liked the same.

* * *

Memories she had, would cherish as long as she lived

Of the man she will never forget but through life's clutches had shift

And fallen afoul of a tragic and sorrowful gift:

Death. The last thing she ever wanted him to succumb.

* * *

For late one night, he drove his car along the roadside of the deep Odiaba bay,

A drunkard car on a rampage did swiftly crash and sway

Into the car and tail-ended it out of control. Through the divider her father's car flew away

To a burial at sea, to which many ends unfortunately come.

* * *

And when the cars were surfaced the very next day,

Sora and her mom looking on but away,

Although the family car was found and damaged beyond allay:

Sora's father was never found.

* * *

He was quickly assumed having gone on to the next life

And Sora was crushed within this one which now gave strife

For she had never worried about being without her parental hype

And she now had little to consider for this one.

* * *

But, she trudged on through the darkness as her own

And she decided to assume the clothes her father liked her to don

As an honor to his memory to live always live with her, live on:

Plain jeans, a yellow shirt and her helmet.

* * *

So here today she stood, almost twelve years from then

And the vivid memories replay in her mind, a tearful lend

To her honorary tribute to her father, the man

Whom never gave her a cry or an emotional debt.

* * *

She blinked once more and looked down at the wave

She still had so much to love him and so much to say

If he could hear him she hoped to know one day

That together they'd play as father and daughter again.

* * *

She let drop the lone rose she held and it drifted down to the beach

Where it would be carried out to the sea, where her father remained somewhere out of reach

But she knew that the bond they two shared, even in death, would never cease

Although the pain of the memories would always rain.

* * *

She waited a moment before releasing her coat from her waist

And the wind blew it open and it flapped with haste

Revealing another tribute so her father's memories never waste:

A dress, the only she'd ever consciously wear.

* * *

A blue fine dress, trimmed in navy seams

Like ones she'd wear only in her dreams

With her father by her side and he'd beam

Of the child he thought most fair.

* * *

So there she stood looking at the sun setting, and the breeze blowing over her form.

The dress would ruffle in the wind and her soft hair in a swarm

And her toes getting tickled. Although the breeze was very warm

She knew she felt like this because her father was always beside.

* * *

And the sun-set to the west, red traces and orange streak

Highlighting the most beautiful features of the lowly bleak

Whom shared dual roles on the cliff-side; a tear again will leak:

The last ode to a girl who dresses like she's a guy.

* * *

And her father would smile and would now lovingly insist

That she was her proud father's "Princess and Prince".

__

[Legal Mumbo-Jumbo: I do not own Digimon, never have, never will and never can. Why can't I? Simple: someone else already made it.]

   [1]: fate445687@aol.com



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